The Way to a Man's Heart
by shywr1ter
Summary: S1 M/L, just after C.R.E.A.M. Something's up with Logan, and it's getting to Max. Belated Logan Cale birthday fic. Still pretty canon friendly, with a hint of moosh.


**Disclaimer:** Characters courtesy of Dark Angel; no profits made.

**A/N:** _A belated birthday story:_ I so missed November 11th for Logan Cale's birthday, but RL just didn't let me out in time. Birthday fic have been done to death and this is just another of those "Logan's first birthday after meeting Max and all the rest of the S1 stuff happened" sort of fic, but I hope you enjoy anyway. Please pretend it's still 11/11 and celebrate Logan's birthday again...

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

_**The Way to a Man's Heart**_

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

**11:00 a.m.**

Something felt 'off.'

Max had dropped in on Logan that morning, to deliver a file he'd asked her to get from the office of a state senator – not all that easy a feat given the fact that the state offices had respectable security and high tech toys to enforce it – and on arrival at the Penthouse, she'd found the place quiet, as if it was empty.

But Logan's Aztek was in its usual sparking spot, and it was nearly eleven – and despite his usual late hours, he'd always been up and at his computer those times she'd dropped in, even at nine or nine thirty in the morning.

No sign of him.

She'd walked silently down the hall toward his bedroom, listening for the sound of a shower, even of snoring ... and finally thought she could the soft sounds of his breathing from behind the closed door. But they weren't the deep, relaxed sounds of sleep. She'd heard tense, shallow breaths, much like what she'd remembered passing the cages where they kept the human game at Manticore for the hunting drills they'd run one autumn, a shallow, tense, waiting sound, as if the person didn't want to be heard – maybe feared being heard.

_Whatever. _He was playing 'possum and didn't want her to know he was awake? She snorted.

She'd only heard one person, but maybe Mr. Savior-of-the-World had a shortie he was saving at the moment; maybe he just wanted a few more winks. She started turn to go, to just drop the file on his desk and leave – but the sound just wasn't like him, for all she could tell ... and maybe something was wrong. A feeling that something just wasn't right started pestering her to stay, and she hesitated, wavering between going and ... _and what, Max? _she prodded herself._ Breaking down the door?_

"Logan?" she finally called, softly, at his door – and was sure she heard his breathing hitch just slightly. "Hey, are you awake?"

There was a pause, and a slow drawing of breath. "Yeah, Max ..." He paused another moment, then asked, his voice weary and almost a little annoyed, "what did you want?"

"Not me – it's what _you_ wanted. Your file from Senator Kelso's office."

"Oh." There was a pause, and he added, "yeah. Sorry, Max..." He just sounded tired now; beaten. "Thank you."

"Look, Logan, are you alright?" It came out more pissy than she'd intended, probably because she didn't want to start worrying about someone – it just made her more vulnerable. And this guy Logan Cale had all the earmarks of someone who was getting under her skin.

There was another pause, and when he spoke, the tension had gone from his voice. "Yeah, Max. I was... " he was quiet again, and another few moments passed. "... I was just going to shower..." Another pause, but this one was shorter, as if he was trying to sound more direct. "Thank you for the file."

She hadn't believed him, not completely, but he hadn't appeared to be in any danger, and no one else had been in there to do him harm. He'd sounded okay, for the most part. She involuntarily shifted back a step from the door, where she'd been craning for every sound she could make out through the door. "Yeah, well, consider it another installment on my payment plan." She'd listened again, head cocked in that last, lingering doubt. "You get anything for me, you know where to call."

He hadn't responded, but then, it wasn't exactly something that needed an answer, and the sounds from behind the closed door had remained soft and even. Another ripple of that feeling went through Max, that almost-concern he'd raised in her, and she'd shaken it off in sudden irritation at the whole parade of emotions Logan Cale managed to raise in her, ever since she'd unwittingly picked _his_ place as having the best stuff to fence. _Whatever,_ she'd raised a hand in frustration toward him, beyond the closed door, and she had turned to stalk out of the Penthouse.

But ever since then, something had tugged at her, not a feeling of danger exactly, but the sense that things weren't quite right. She'd decided he was just still brooding, but knew deep down it was more; she didn't think he was in immediate danger from any of his enemies or even from any of the potential health problems that she'd read he might have now, given his gunshot wounds, but she had this feeling that he was somehow ... what? Being threatened? At risk? Over his own edge and ready to do himself in? The emotions Logan Cale had begun to stir in her – even irritation, exasperation and frustration along with the appreciation and, yeah, admittedly, the affection she'd felt for him – were all swung into higher gear with what her curiosity was doing to her. That and her gut nudging her, she couldn't let it go.

She'd even called him later on, pretending to be checking on the file she'd dropped off, and ending with an offer to bring some fresh fruit she'd seen at the market if he wanted to feed her – but he begged off, saying he was too busy. When she offered to drop off the fruit anyway, he still declined, and put her off 'til next week.

_Busy?_ Okay, maybe generally, but not right then, she knew. _He doesn't want to see you, Max, get over it, _her inner voice chided. But another voice in her head wasn't buying the 'busy' and reminded her that things hadn't been right for him since his hero Herrero had died. Was it getting worse? Just as she had this morning, she'd let his weary dismissal on the phone run her off, but there _was_ still something bothering him, which in turn bothered her, which then bothered her even _more,_ that whatever his dramas were, they were sucking her in, too...

"_...Max..."_

Original Cindy's voice cut though her thoughts and she turned quickly to her friend, who'd sided up to her where she stood, staring past her locker, deep in thought. "What?" Max said too abruptly, too defensively. Too guiltily. She looked away and pulled her locker open.

"Where your head at, sugah? 'Cos Original Cindy makin' herself hoarse trying to get you back on Planet Earth."

She shrugged, trying to put it all past her, but her gut wouldn't let it go. Was there really some danger there, or was Logan Cale just doing something to her internal radar to throw everything out of whack? "I was just thinking," she finally admitted to Cindy, turning to face her. "How can you tell if when someone says they want to be alone, they really want to be alone?"

"Who says they want to be alone?"

Max suddenly realized what she'd said. "Huh?" she blurted involuntarily, blinking momentarily at Original Cindy. She wasn't used to being this distracted by anything, and yet here she'd been so thrown by him that she'd twisted what he'd said, to misinterpret his words into this... He'd _said_ he was busy. But what she'd apparently heard – and what she was now sure he'd said, in between the lines, was that he wanted to be left alone...

"Who says they want to be alone?" Cindy repeated, a little more insistently than before.

"No one," Max stalled.

"Your boy." Cindy nodded sagely.

"He's not my boy." Max pulled an apple out of her locker and slammed it shut again. She strode up into the rider's lounge and plopped on the battered couch, moodily staring up at the TV there, with Cindy right behind her.

"Boo, whatever you wanna call him, he's something, 'cos I ain' never seen you so wiggy over what anyone else said, meant or thought." When Max said nothing else, Cindy prodded, "so you gonna tell me it's someone else?"

But as Max opened her mouth to speak, the news screen went back to the day's announcements, and Max saw her first clue across the top of the screen – _November 11, 2019_...

_November 11__th__._ Just a few weeks ago he'd told her it was his birthday; hell, she'd joked that the grapefruit she'd brought him was an early gift.

She stood suddenly with the sudden insight, certain it was connected, but just not sure how. Cindy stood with her but more slowly. "What just happened?" Cindy asked, warily.

Max blinked at Original Cindy, wavered a moment – then decided she could use her friend's help in negotiating a guy like Logan Cale. "So Logan's had a hard few weeks – one of his big heroes just died – his mentor, back in the day..."

"That guy in the explosion, the guy who was missing then showed up when he was blown up?"

Max nodded, then nodded toward the TV. "So I just remembered. It's Logan's birthday today. I talked with him a couple times this morning and first, he sounded all – I dunno, down, discouraged. Then I called just now and I said I'd swing by with some stuff from the market, and he said he was busy, but he still sounds..." she shook her head. "Some people are weird about their birthdays..."

Cindy was nodding too, mulling it over. "Not just a bad few weeks, boo. The man got shot up not all that long ago, and you said his family still ain't come by to see him?" At Max's shrug, Cindy shook her head, "you tell me – family right around the corner can't be bothered to come by, heroes getting killed ... and you said he's not all that down with bein' stuck in that wheelchair... yeah, lots of folks might want to be hidin' from the world on their birthday with a year like that."

"But why then?" Max asked, "I never get that." _Cos you don't have a birthday yourself, Max? Maybe if you had one, you'd know..._

"Oh, you know," Original Cindy shrugged, vaguely. "Time to take stock, see where your life's been, where it's going. Can't help but wonder if next year will be better or worse..."

_Oh, does that sound like Logan!_ Max thought. "You think everyone does that?"

"Everyone in their own way, Boo. Don't you?"

"Yeah, sure," she lied quickly. Even Cindy didn't know she'd never had a birthday to go through it herself, and she couldn't even admit to Logan, who knew all about her, that not knowing the day she was born left a hole in Max's sense of identity, made her feel even more manufactured than 'born' – more 'project' than human. _So, yeah, Max, birthdays can have a pretty big impact on how you feel about things_, she realized.

"So you gonna go see him?"

Max looked up at her friend from the floor, where she'd been staring in her own brooding, in a bit of confused surprise. "But ... he didn't _want_ company, that much was clear..."

"You sure, Boo? Or was he just feelin' low enough he _thought_ he wanted to be alone? It's a lot easier bein' alone when you tell yourself _you_ told everyone to stay away, than when they just stay away on their own."

Max looked into the dark eyes, wise well beyond their years, and she nodded – and as she nodded, she realized the feeling of concern and worry she'd carried all morning had evaporated as she sensed she'd just been handed an explanation for what she'd seen. Slowly, she smiled. "Gotta get a few things first." She impulsively gave Cindy a hug of thanks, of relief. "I gotta go. I'm taking an early lunch; I gotta run a couple errands."

"Well, aiight, Boo!" Cindy grinned widely.

"Not _those_ kinds of errands..." Max rolled her eyes. "But maybe I can find some things to take him a birthday celebration tonight. If Normal squawks, tell him I'll be back by noon?"

"I got your back, Boo. Go find something to make yo' boy happy." And Cindy grinned to herself as she watched Max leave, in her excitement, completely forgetting to throw out her usual denial...

**6:47 p.m.**

Max let herself in quietly and, even though she moved into the Penthouse with her usual pace, she made a point of noting all the signs, all of which assured her that she – and Cindy – had been right: Logan hadn't left all day, because his key ring lay on the table in precisely the same spot and exactly the same splay of keys as it had last night and that morning; Bling hadn't been there for his daily therapy, because the towels, barbells and strap-on weights were exactly as they'd been the night before ... and he hadn't eaten, because only the coffee pot and his canister of beans had been disturbed in his pristine kitchen...

Max stepped over to the kitchen's work bench to put down the large box she carried, then went on to the living room to find Logan staring out the large window, brooding, a glass of scotch held loosely in his hand. She sniffed tentatively and was relieved that its scent – from the room _or_ from him – wasn't so strong that he'd be too intoxicated be rational, though if he hadn't eaten, he might have had enough to be feeling some of its effects. Unconsciously taking a deep breath for the plunge, she strolled around to face him and balance on the arm of his couch. "Hey."

"Max." He looked at her, the alcohol he held making Max leery of trying to read him, not yet sure how far gone he might be. "Thought I explained I was busy."

"Yeah, you did, but _I_ thought if you were that busy I might be able to help."

He got it; she saw that he sensed her disbelief in his excuses, and maybe even knew she forgave him his lie. He looked a little curious now, but still neutral, not emotional, not depressed or sad or lonely...

More like ... numb. And that suddenly worried Max more than any of the emotions did.

"Well, that's nice." He was saying, awkwardly, nodding vaguely ... and swallowing, hard. His hand drew back a little, lowering the scotch, as if trying to hide it from her. Max looked at him with interest now: not so drunk, then, if he was embarrassed to be caught with the hard stuff, alone, brooding? Maybe not fully numb yet?

"You working on a new case? The file I brought?" she suggested.

"Uh ... yeah. Sort of. Mentally rehearsing my hack, trying to decide what to put in." This time the lie wasn't half bad, but Max knew it wasn't how he worked on his broadcasts. Still, she allowed him this other fib, nodding her understanding, as he fell back into silence.

"So you've been all that busy, you didn't get around to eating yet," she chided gently, knowing that he might notice her tone, but suddenly not caring so much if he heard that she was concerned about him. She owed him so much more than that for how he'd reacted to her seizures, how he immediately was there for her, comforting her, just the opposite of what she'd been trained to expect. "Not hungry?"

He looked up at her, suddenly looking wary, knowing he was caught and not sure that he wanted to face what came next. "Uh, not really ... but go ahead; there are leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry, and you're welcome to ..."

But she was shaking her head and interrupted, "not _left_overs... not even yours. That's not much of a birthday dinner."

He looked guilty, as if caught in a lie. _Well, in a way..._ Max thought momentarily. "Max..." he began.

"...and I realize I might not be much of a cook," she went on, smoothly. "But I _know_ some good ones..." she smiled at him, pointedly, and went on, "and I happen to have an in with the executive chef they use at the Japanese Consulate General. So come on," she stood, and tipped her head toward the dining room. "The great thing about his _Bento_ is that even if you're not hungry, each one is a work of art. 'A feast for the eye,'" she teased before turning toward the hall.

She strode purposefully out to the kitchen where she helped herself to his place mats, then crossed into the dining room to set his table. She felt some satisfaction to see him coming over, slowly, still a little leery, but apparently accepting her offering. She felt some satisfaction as she sensed that her decision to just show up like this had been the right one...

She went back into the kitchen to retrieve the _Bento_, still closed, and lay them on the table. "He gave me an extra, so we have the three of them. Maybe it's not so traditional, but we can share, and just pick and choose which we want. You're the birthday boy," she added as she went back to lift a bottle of wine from her box of items, "so you can have all the first picks..."

"Max..." his voice was now a question as he sat back to watch her work. "...how did you know?"

"Your birthday? You told me – remember?" She saw him think back and in only a moment, recall it. "Plum wine" she lifted the bottle to show him. "Not the fancy stuff you usually have, and probably lots sweeter, but Aiji said it's just right to drink with these..." His expression shifted again, from reticent to touched now, and he moved a little closer to the table. "Go ahead and look," she suggested, pulling out the chopsticks packed with the other things and bringing them with Logan's linen napkins. "I peeked already."

Logan came the rest of the way to lean in and lift the lid from the first box, revealing an artistic arrangement of sushi, shashimi, vegetables and rice. Max put small saucers of ginger and wasabi between the placemats. "Wow," he was finally moved to murmur.

"The man does good work. Almost as good as a Cale culinary delight," she grinned to see him engaging with her, all through the magic of the dinner she'd brought.

"A _lot_ better than anything I'd come up with..." he actually smiled a little, and set down the first lid to reach for the second.

"Okay," she stood back, looking at him. "Anything else we need?"

The look she saw in return added another 'Logan Cale' emotion to her list, something she couldn't yet define, but something that hit her way, down deep. "It's perfect, Max," his warm voice rolled over her. "Thank you."

She slid into her seat, managing to maintain her composure even with the butterflies his eyes and voice had awakened in her tummy. "Thank Aiji-san – and Kendra," she admitted, then, a little more seriously, said, "I figured that I couldn't get close to what you could make – and a birthday dinner shouldn't just be the usual lukewarm pizza..."

Logan looked with appreciation over the meal Max had laid out before him, and smiled, softly, in appreciation. "You've outdone yourself. You and Aiji-san and Kendra," he even grinned.

"Well, then, start choosing what you want, birthday boy," she ordered, her eyes moving over the artistic displays before them. "I'm hungry."

"Me, too," he grinned back at her, completely engaged. And she felt that new, whatever-it-was emotion start warming her from the inside out...

**7:45 p.m.  
**

Not quite an hour had passed, and Max and Logan were back in front of his huge windows in his darkened living room, overlooking the city – but this time they were sated and content, sipping the steaming green tea packed along with the dinner.

Max felt a warmth of satisfaction to see that the dinner – and admittedly, her efforts – had lightened Logan's mood a little....

_A __**lot,**__ Max, _she poked herself.

...a _lot_, maybe more than it had been since the whole Herrero thing, when he'd first learned that the saint had a human side and had just pretended to be dead. She looked back over and saw Logan gazing at the sky, a soft smile now warming his features. As he felt her eyes on him, Logan turned to face her. "Max – thank you for all this." He was quiet for another moment before adding, "I guess you figured out that birthdays aren't my favorite things."

"You know, that's something I just don't get," she admitted. "I mean, speaking as someone who doesn't _have_ one, I can guarantee you'd like it a lot less if you didn't have any."

"Take mine," he suddenly asserted. "I'm not using them and I really would be just as happy if they never came around. Or... we could share," he added, almost a little shy in his suggestion, "then we'd always know there was someone we were sharing it with..."

She looked at him, long, feeling a connection with this man she'd known such a short time, but who had already made such an impression in her life. "Nah..." she finally drawled, her mouth quirking up into a sly, amused smile. "Make mine a couple weeks later." At his look in question, his green eyes twinkling as he sensed the teasing he knew was to come, she added, "you'll have that reminder on your birthday that _mine_ is coming up... and that way we get _two_ cakes."

He chuckled softly, and looked at her with such warmth in his gaze she felt her cheeks warm. "But none yet this year. Sorry, Max."

"I'm not," she beamed immediately. "Go look in the box out there." At his surprised grin, she drawled, "Aiji-san is _very_ fond of his favorite interpreter ... and Kendra convinced him that his almond honey cake would be the very best birthday cake you ever had."

Again, she saw Logan swallow his emotions – but this time it looked like the feelings he was fighting were more like her own butterflies than the grim ones he faced earlier. "Tell Kendra I owe her," he managed. "And you know how much I already owe you..."

She snorted a little and shook it away. "That's our _quid pro quo_, Logan – it's past anything _owed_, it's just..." she stopped, suddenly unsure what to say – or how much to admit to him _or_ to herself. "It's just _us,_" she finally summed them up. "I've got your back, you've got mine – and we know each other's deep dark secrets. If that's not more than plusses and minuses in a ledger, I don't know what is." The look in his eyes for her, the wonder and emotion there, made her head swim first in possibilities, then in the old fears. She stood abruptly to cover it all with a grin. "So let's get that cake out, and heat up some more tea."

And as she made her escape back into the unfamiliar but admittedly pleasant feelings of domesticity she'd worn that night, she heard Logan again following her, ready to join her in birthday cake.

"A couple weeks from now – the 25th ?" he was asking. "Is that your pick, Max?"

She appreciated his letting her escape once again, and she shrugged, throwing a grin in his direction as she lifted the small cake from the box. "Sure, I guess."

"Gotta tell me for sure," he was openly teasing her now.

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Because ... " His look to her was warm and hopeful. "It looks as if I have some plans to make..."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

**(Belated or not,) Happy Birthday, Logan Cale!**

_Birthday gifts in the form of reviews appreciated!_


End file.
